Be My Guest: Won't it be hard to say goodbye?

Today's guest post was written by my friend Carly. Carly joins us today to talk about her experience as a foster parent. I hope you'll take some time to read what she's written and consider foster care as an option for you and your family. You could change someone's life.

Won't it be hard to say goodbye?

That is one of the first questions people asked when we said we were fostering. 

It IS hard to say goodbye. We've only done it once, so I'm no expert. It is a lot easier to say goodbye than to think about all of the kids out there that need someone to say yes. Children that need someone to look past the hurt saying goodbye would cause. 

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Moments of Motherhood: Firsts

So many thoughts. 

So many things we did this weekend. 

The Overdue Recap gets you through Saturday. I was soooo exhausted. Whew. 

Sunday was different. 

The husband and I did something incredibly enjoyable. 

And for the very first time. 

EVER.

You know you're a mom when going to the movies with your husband while your child is at a drop-in childcare place is a monumental event. 

I mean it. 

The child turned six but a week ago. 

We had NEVER EVER done that before. 

We went to the movies. 

DURING THE DAY.

On a SUNDAY afternoon, people. 

WITHOUT OUR DAUGHTER. 

This is HUGE. 

I CAN'T STOP USING CAPS. 

THAT HUGE.

We dropped her off. She cried. She cries at nothing like this ever. I think she was over-tired. Exhausted. Read that recap again. See how much this kid did on Saturday? You'd be tired, too. And you'd have a sugar crash like nobody's business. 

So we dropped her off and she teared up some, but it was still awesome. She enjoyed herself and after the movie we hit the bookstore for a short bit and went our separate ways and neither of us had to go to the children's section or the train or Lego area or anywhere we didn't want to go. AT ALL! 

When we went to pick her up my husband was feeling guilty. 

Me? I was thinking ahead and trying to figure out when we can do it again. 

Oops. 

It helped that she really didn't want to leave. To the point that she held onto the pole outside of the location for a few minutes, pulling an over-exaggerated 6-yo routine. 

She was whiny and cranky at dinner, which we did early and out, and I enjoyed A LOT, even with her crankiness. It's amazing what a few hours of Die Hard #900 can do for you when you're watching sh*t blow up and stuff and not fighting for the popcorn. 

So I went to the movies with my husband. Without my kid. 

And we had a good time. 

Consider linking up with me today to share some of your own moments of motherhood. Good, bad, in-between ... we all have those you know you're a mom when moments. What are yours?

** Note, I've been having some trouble with linkytools, so today I'm trying the thumbnail linky approach. If you don't see your link after submitting feel free to message me via email/FB/Twitter so I can check it out! **

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Rockin' The Baby!

This is one of the earliest pictures I have of me and my lil one. I can't seem to find the first ones in an electronic version from her very first day, but this one is from a day or two later and I love it. It brings back memories of exhaustion, anxiety, exhilaration and a whole lotta love.

If you want to join in on the Rockin' the Baby link-up just click the button below and head on over to Shell's place to see the hundreds of mamas doing that very same thing. And click on some links while you're there. Cause there might be nothing more beautiful than a momma and her new baby. Not a single thing!

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Reckless

I was such a fool. I mean, seriously. I knew he liked my best friend in "that way," so why did I even bother?

I was friends with him. He was one of my best guy friends. He looked at me as just a friend. I knew that. I would never NOT know that. I could never not know that.

My best friend didn't like him. Not that way. But she flirted. It was fun. We were in high school. Why wouldn't she flirt? I would have. Wouldn't you?

And yet, there I was. In his bedroom.

He kind of had his own apartment. His parents - his father, at least - lived upstairs. Maybe it was his mother? I honestly don't think I'd ever met either of them.

He was so reckless. The bad boy. The bad boy who did what? Nothing, truly. He wasn't that bad. He just liked to pretend he was. Right?

I mean, sure, he smoked. But so many kids our age did. Did he drink? I don't know. Didn't everyone? I didn't, not really. Maybe sometimes when we had a sleepover, or we all kind of hung out at someone's house. Safest place to be.

He was never there. He wasn't friends with that crowd. Maybe some of the girls. But the guys, nah. They wanted nothing to do with him.

And if my *other* closest guy friend from that time were to speak to me now (if I could find him, but that's a whole 'nother story) he'd bring up the old days. Mention how wrong I was to be friends with him. Or something. It'd be the kind of thing that stuck with me forever, if those friends all had. I'm sure.

And nobody really knows this. It wasn't something I freely shared. He was such a tease.

My parents hated him. My mom, especially. Never trusted him. The other friend, with my life. This one, not so much. But she'd let him come over and watch movies. Late into the night, on the living room floor. Nothing ever happened.

Hair tousling, laying on one another. Resting. Bodies touching. But nothing there. Slight pulsing through my own, thinking, what if? Maybe some day? And yet knowing. Knowing I was "just the friend" and he had much more in mind for other girls.

But yet, I stayed. I stayed friends with him. Through much of college, even. Probably wrote unrequited poetry about him. Ask my roommate. And current best friend. She would remember me, sitting at my desk, writing. "And who's this one about, Ang?" she'd ask. Her - and only her [minus one or two friends later in life, and my cousin's husband who passed - why a nickname brings forth so much memory for me - amazing isn't it?] - nickname for me.

And yet, there I was. In his bedroom.

We watched television for a while. A movie? Two? I have no idea. We made silly bets with one another. He knew he toyed with my heart. Tugged on the strings a little too much. Laughed. Smiled. Loudly. Too loudly in the small space that encompassed us both.

I think back and say to myself ... if my daughter finds a friend like him, I'll tell her. Warn her. Tell her to walk away. Try to shield her heart from being maimed or broken.

Mine was never truly broken. But maimed - sure - just a bit.

And yet, there I was. In his bedroom.

We shut the TV. Lay in the dark. Talking. Laughing. Talking. He leaned over. I can still remember it. I was 16? 17? 18 - even? We were so close. TOO close. Talking about a foolish bet. A joke. Somehow it wasn't funny anymore. His breath drawing closer. We'd been this close before. But this was different now. Why? I don't know. Or I do. I knew something was going to happen. Not sure why it would, or what he was thinking. Planning? Something?

He leaned in and kissed me.

Somehow, suddenly. Over me. On his bed. There was nowhere else to sit.

A kiss.

We'd kissed before. Like friends.

This? This was not a friendly kiss.

I knew he did not want more. I knew I could have, but wouldn't as he didn't.

My first real kiss. The first time I felt passion, or compassion, in that certain way.

Why? I have no idea.

It never happened again. I knew it never would.

We stayed close friends. Went to separate colleges, but close enough that now and then he'd come to visit me. We'd hang out together, with my roommate (that best girlfriend he always had his eye on), with other friends.

We lost touch, eventually. I stumbled across someone who knew him at their school. Random. Ironic? Something of a not normal nature.

Even more so? She was dating him. Or she had been.

What has happened to him since then?

If I only knew.

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This memory DOES still affect me. You can surely tell that. My guess is that while you were reading it, you, yourself, wondered what happened. Did the relationship move on? Why is she talking about this now?

I have no idea.

Maybe because I recently wrote about the start of my relationship with my husband. Maybe because at that point I kind of wanted to skim through old (handwritten) journals to see what my thoughts, dreams and life were like back in the day. My ex-boyfriend on my mind a bit. And then this person - from my past. Sometimes I would have the dream that I would run into him somewhere. Show him how much he gave up when he didn't want me.

Isn't that often the case? Hasn't every woman or man had an imaginary high school reunion where you go back and are ... choose any or all ... thinner, richer, prouder, more famous, happier, brighter or whatever else you can think of to fill in that blank? Whether you just want these things for yourself, so everyone can see you for who you are, or you want to be more of those things over the people who missed out on you, who you lost touch with, who you think of now and then and say - where'd you go?

This also kind of makes me want to pull out my high school yearbook. Read what he, and all the other people in my life who were SO essential, so important to me back then, had written remind me of how special I was, how incredible, how our friendship would be forever. How it would NEVER die.

And yet, as we all know, so many of them do. They fade away as we move on to college, the work-force, families of our own.

There are ways to track people down. The Internet. Facebook. Twitter. Classmates and other connecting websites. I avoid many of them like the plague, but love when my mom connects with someone that I DO care about. Someone I DO wonder about. Like an old girlfriend I lost track of when we both worked and went to school in Manhattan. She now has two kids, me my one. Amazing how things change.

Why did I flash back to this? Why do I remember it the way that I do?

I can see the room, I don't even have to close my eyes to bring myself back there. I can feel the emotion, the anxiety, that pulsing. I never told anyone that he had kissed me. Why would I? Then it'd be laughed off, made fun of, maybe? Maybe he even knew that I'd never talk about it? Maybe that's why he did it?

Whatever it was, why-ever [so not a word, I know] it happened, it is something I'll carry with me, tucked away for always, as it was really and truly the first time I'd been kissed like that. In such a way that for a sweet second, everyone else in the world, all the people we knew, the reasons that were there or not there, mattered not, and all that mattered was the simplest kiss.For there I was. In his bedroom.

This post is in response to this week's memoir prompt at The Red Dress Club.

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What's it all about?

What's it all about? The things we go through in life?

So many times you hear the phrase, 'it'll make you stronger.' Oh-kay. I guess. 'This too shall pass.' Yes. Sure. Everything does, doesn't it? 'You know what I mean, right?' No. No, not really. But hey, you've gotta do what you've gotta do, as do I.

How many sayings do we hear on a daily basis that cause us to stop and rethink the way we live our lives?

Like just now, on a TV show I heard a woman say, 'You know what it's like, right? A first love? Those feelings never really go away.' Am I supposed to think back now, to the first person I believed I loved and feel those same feelings? Even if I'm not supposed to, for some reason, here I am. This is not what I intended to say when I began writing this post. It's not even close. And yet ... here I am.

I can flash back and remember them. I can find the good. But then I can go back and read old journals to remind myself of how - no matter what others said to me during the window of time I was with this person - I suffered constantly. And yet ... I trudged along. No matter what break-up number one was like, break-up number two was worse. And why? Why? Because this was my first real love. The first boyfriend. The first time I was supposed to be in love. The first person to ever truly break my heart, even though deep inside I knew. I knew that I was not meant to live happily ever after with this person. I know he was a good man, but I know he was not someone who ever wanted to truly listen to what I had to say.

And yet ... the night of break-up number one was so sad. We were amicable. We shared tears. Until it was time for me to go home. Never break up in someone's home. It's a stinging thing. Gives them an advantage. But also make sure if you do, it's not YOUR home. The last thing you want is to have that feeling or memory every time you walk into the room where it ended. So for me, it was good. I skipped that pain. I went home and ate Ben & Jerry's, I cried constantly. All despite the knowing that it would never really, truly be.

And then, months later. I went back. He wanted me back. I wanted to go back to him. And so we did. Somehow, in the midst of an argument. More flirting, more arguing. And we wound up back together. Whatever for? So we could make our way through a few more months? After an entire year together we took 2+ months apart and thought it'd be okay to try again? Of course not. We just figured, hey, why not give it some more time. I guess.

So we tried again. And months later we went away together for the weekend and on the return flight home I hid the tears as they streamed down my face. I knew we were over. I knew it was done. I knew it was time. And yet, I held his hand and hid the tears. A day or so later we walked across the street to a small park after work and said our goodbyes. It was the end for us. We knew it would be. It had been a fun ride, but never truly how it should have been. I was too good for him. I always would be. I think there was a part of him that knew it. And yet ... I was still sad. Still crying. Still hurt. It still stung. AND I had to see him nearly every day at the office. Yeah. That part was great.

The rest? Well, you know this wonderful guy I have now? He worked with us, too. And I cried to him often. I shared how shitty it felt to know that there was this person out there who didn't love me for who I was. Who didn't respect all the strengths I had, who shrugged off so many of the parts of me that made me me. I never expected (although quite some time before a former girlfriend of mine swore up and down that he liked me) that we'd fall for one another. He had a girlfriend. I was just fresh out of my own experience. It was not the right time. We stayed friends. He supported me. I had many guy friends. Loads of them. He was one among many.

One day that kind of changed. A simple semi-drunken kiss. A 'you sleep on my couch, here's a blanket' kind of night (he truly DID sleep on my couch!). And suddenly I wasn't sure what he expected. I ran from him. I turned him down. I'd been down this road already and wasn't ready to go back down it again.

And yet ...

** I'll be linking this post up with Pour Your Heart Out, a weekly post on Wednesdays over at Shell's place. I just couldn't wait til Wednesday to get it out.**

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Strawberry Pickin' Recap ... in pictures!

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Looking back ...

Happy Almost New Year, everyone.

I've been inspired by all of the bloggers out there who have posted their end-of-the-year-summaries to look back at the year that has just flown by, and I'd like to give you all a small taste of it. A little bit in pictures and a little bit in posts. I started this blog in March, but didn't "go live" until April, so perhaps I have said a few things that might interest you to know about me? Or something like that.

Let's recap, shall we?

Best books I read this year:
* The Middle Place, by Kelly Corrigan
* The Girl Who Stopped Swimming, by Joshilyn Jackson
* Bright Lights, Big A$$, by Jen Lancaster

And for complete info on the books I have read in 2009 see this post for #1-44.

And my final batch:

#45: Bound South, by Susan Rebecca White
#46: Bitter is the New Black, Jen Lancaster
#47: The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing, by Melissa Bank (I forgot to add this to my list, so I DID make it to 48 books!)
#48: Mrs. Miracle, by Debbie Macomber

Some of my favorite early posts:

* Is it too early?
* Take the Girl Out of the City
* Being a Mom Means
* A Jewish Girl in the South
* Does It Count?

And a few pictures to flash me back:








I thank all of my new blogging friends for the support and encouragement you have offered me over the past not-quite-year, and I am truly grateful for the friendships I have made thus far. I wish you all a wonderful New Year, and look forward to sharing much with you all throughout 2010!

Oh, and I'll be back tomorrow with a look at the year ahead. ;)

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Wordless Wednesday!

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Wordless Wednesday!

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(Almost) Wordless Wednesday!

As football season is underway I pay homage
to her first Super Bowl.
GO BIG BLUE!!!

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Our Weekend!

We had an amazing weekend. On Saturday we spent some time with a friend and her horse, Apple. My little one had a blast sitting on the horse and taking a ride around the farm area. We also saw some chickens, so that was really exciting!

On Sunday we went to Falls Lake and took the boat out for a spin. It was a lot of fun as well, and lil miss enjoyed driving the boat, feeling the "bumps" (waves!) and even watched her daddy catch a fish! She caught the same one over and over with her Dora fishing pole, and yet each time it was really exciting!


I'm already ready for the upcoming weekend. We're due rain all this week, but today is kind of pretty in a misty/not quite clear-not quite rainy kind of day. I hope you all enjoyed the long weekend as much as we did here in NC. Looking forward to reading your updates!

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Busy weekend ... again!

We were on the go this past weekend! Lunch w. friends on Saturday, then a birthday party for a 2-year-old, and then a drive in the JEEP. Our little one zonked out immediately from the breeze and motion, so hubby and I were able to run some errands. Yesterday for Dad's Day we got up and left the house early. Took a long drive out to Wilmington and went to the Fort Fisher Aquarium for the day, including a pop over to the beach right down the road.

Our first trip to the "coast," and her first trip EVER to a beach! So we saw the fishies and sharks, left the waves lap at our feet, took a bunch of pictures and then fell asleep on the ride home. Hubby enjoyed Father's Day and we were zonked out before 11PM. How OLD are we?!?

Hope you and your loved ones enjoyed Father's Day this year. May there be many more celebrations of Daddies in the world in the years to come!

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